


Fuchsteufelswild

by AnaliseGrey



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Assault, Fantastic Racism, Hiding Medical Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Non-Sexual Assault, Vengeance!, racism against Tieflings, slightly darker than normal Caleb, wound treatment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:08:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22220824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnaliseGrey/pseuds/AnaliseGrey
Summary: Based off a prompt from discord, "Who did this to you?".
Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 16
Kudos: 226





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Fuchsteufelswild_ \- livid, hopping mad.

It’s fine.

It’s not great by any stretch of the imagination, and it’s certainly not how he’d intended to spend the latter part of his evening, but it’s fine.

Molly turns to the side with a wince, trying to catch his reflection in the small mirror in his hand. The inn where they’re staying isn’t anything fancy, and the rooms don’t have mirrors of their own; assessing the damage is distinctly difficult when working with a hand mirror, but he’s not keen on the alternatives.

He’d managed to make it up here with the rest of the group none-the-wiser; Yasha had been in conversation with Beau, so he’d given her shoulder a quick pat with his tail as he’d whirled by, and she’d barely lifted a hand in response before he was past her and moving. Jester had been a bit more difficult to bypass, but thankfully his hair is getting longer now, and he’d known to arrange it accordingly before entering the tavern. It doesn’t look like much yet, especially against his skin tone, but he knows what a good shiner feels like, and it’s likely to be a hell of a sight by morning.

His biggest concern at the moment, though, is the slice along his side, just over his ribs. It’s just far enough back that it’s hard to see even while twisting, and it’s insult to injury that he’d bled over one of his favorite shirts. It’s in the midst of contemplating how he’s going to clean and possibly stitch the wound that he hears the unmistakable sound of the door’s latch clicking open.

He turns back and there’s Caleb, stood in the doorway, eyes wide as he takes in the tableau before him.

“Well,” Molly says, trying to keep his voice light and unbothered. “You seem to have caught me in a bit of a state.”

Caleb doesn’t say anything, just shuts the door behind him, making sure it’s locked before turning back and approaching. His hands are gentle as he takes hold of Molly’s wrists, pulling them away and taking the mirror before setting it down carefully on the nightstand. Molly hadn’t realized his hands were shaking, but it’s easy to tell when Caleb’s hands are so steady.

“Who did this to you?”

Caleb’s accent sharpens, the words clipped and precise.

“It was a misunderstanding, is all. Nothing to worry about.”

Caleb’s eyes flick up, the blue somehow icier than Molly remembers.

“Molly,” Caleb says, and there’s so much in that one word, in just his name- worry and fondness, concern, and underlying it all the subtle hint of something else, something Molly’s never really seen from Caleb before.

Anger.

He knows- or at least assumes- it’s not aimed at him, but it’s still a surprise to see it.

Molly smiles, barely concealing a wince as it pulls at his eye. “It’s fine, I promise. Just a stranger not seeing eye-to-eye on something, that’s all. It happens.”

“But you’re bleeding.” Caleb’s attention has gone back down to the wound, bleeding only sluggishly now, his fingers moving gingerly along the sides, drawing a sharp breath from Molly as it tugs.

“To be fair, dear, I do that quite regularly. It’s hardly anything new.”

That garners him another look, which he can readily admit he deserves. He sighs, his smile turning more self-deprecating before gesturing at himself. “It sort of comes with the territory, love. I’m used to it. Didn’t figure there was a reason to make a fuss, and I don’t want Jester to worry. I was planning on asking Yasha to keep a close eye on her while we’re in town just in case, and I’ll stick closer to the group. It’s on me for wandering around a strange town alone before having taken the proper measure of it.”

A second later Caleb’s hand is on his face, fingers gentle as they tilt Molly’s head just to the side so his hair falls away, revealing the eye it had been covering. Molly swallows.

“Ah yes. There is that as well, I forgot to mention.”

Lips pressing into a tight line, Caleb’s eyes narrow as he takes the new injury in, reaching to brush a thumb lightly over the swelling. Molly lets him, breathing slowly and watching Caleb’s face for a reaction.

There’s a twitch of lip and then Caleb is pulling back and away, leaving Molly feeling temporarily bereft before Caleb is moving him to the bed to sit, keeping a hold on him, hands careful and sure as he guides Molly down, making sure he’s settled before moving back to the nightstand to retrieve the bowl there, filling it with water from the matching pitcher, bringing it back over for Molly to hold.

“I can go get Yasha, have her at least do a little work on this, even if you don’t want to tell Jester.”

Molly’s already shaking his head _no_ before Caleb finishes. “Like I said, I’m not inclined to start a fuss. It’s not bad, barely more than a scratch.”

Caleb pauses in pulling a clean cloth from his pack, then stands, returning to Molly’s side. “As you wish, _liebling_ , but will you let me help you at least?”

Nodding, Molly shifts the bowl of water to one side on his lap and turns to give Caleb better access to the injury.

Caleb’s quiet as he works, movements precise, exact, though no less gentle for it. Molly can tell the care he’s taking in cleaning and bandaging, the wound thankfully not serious enough to require stitches. Throughout, though, there’s a _look_ on Caleb’s face, if it can be called that. His expression is carefully neutral, mouth the same pressed line it was before, and when he does speak, the syllables are still clipped, sharp. For all that Molly’s always expected Caleb’s anger to be as fiery as his casting, he’s learning that it’s quite the opposite. There’s an air of icy fury rolling off the man, though carefully never directed at Molly himself. When he’s done, Caleb takes the bowl of now slightly pink water back from Molly and sets it aside to deal with later before returning to stand between Molly’s knees, one hand landing lightly on Molly’s shoulder and the other brushing hair aside to gently cup the side of Molly’s face. Turning into it, Molly sighs, placing a kiss on Caleb’s palm.

“Thank you for your help, dearest.”

“Of course, _schatz_.”

Molly spends a few minutes with his face pressed to Caleb’s stomach, ignoring how it presses against his eye in favor of how nice it feels to have Caleb’s talented fingers gentling through his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp and at the base of his horns. He doesn’t realize he’s started to doze off until the fingers carding through his hair stop, and there’s the gentle pressure of a kiss being pressed to the top of his head.

“Come, _liebling_ , let’s get you tucked in to bed, _ja_?”

He’s hazily aware of Caleb stepping just far enough back to help him undress, removing all his jewelry so it doesn’t tangle in his sleep, and getting him situated under the blankets, pillows carefully arranged to protect his side. He’s mostly asleep when he realizes Caleb isn’t joining him, and it’s enough to get his eyes open again, if only barely.

“Aren’t you coming to bed?”

Caleb’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but he does lean to press another kiss to Molly’s forehead. “Not just yet. I have an errand to run. I will return shortly. Rest, and I’ll be back soon.”

Humming quietly, Molly’s eyes slide closed again as he falls asleep


	2. Chapter 2

He’s hunting.

It’s something he hasn’t done for awhile, not for more than a decade, in fact, but Caleb finds it comes back to him readily enough. He alters his gait just enough on his way back out of the inn that his friends don’t immediately clock him, and that’s fine. He has no interest in explaining where he’s going.

The air is still balmy outside, though with a cool breeze that heralds the end of summer. As he walks, he pulls his hair up and back with a leather tie, and a quick dart into a dimming alley gives him a chance to disguise himself- ashen purple skin, dark purple hair, the look of a darkening bruise about one eye. He pulls his hood up, not bothering with the horns, or the tail; the person he’s looking for likely won’t have that level of attention to detail.

Molly had been exploring the market district earlier, and so that’s where he heads, affecting a half-hunched posture that looks as if he’s guarding an injury he doesn’t have, and makes a point of looking around furtively, as if concerned for his welfare.

As expected, it doesn’t take long for the bait to work.

He’s turning a corner around the side of a building when there’s a hand on his shoulder, shoving him around the side and into a wall. He moves with it, hunching over further so his face isn’t readily visible.

“Oi! I thought I made it pretty clear your kind isn’t welcome here. Or was the first lesson not strong enough for ‘ye?”

The voice- and accompanying terrible breath- belong to a larger man, a day laborer by Caleb’s estimation based on the size of the man’s arms and the catch of callouses on the fabric of his cloak as the man pulls him forward only to slam him back again.

Caleb doesn’t respond beyond a well-placed pained grunt, letting himself fold over; it gives him the opportunity to pluck his component out and hold it tightly in one hand.

“Please,” he says, mimicking Molly’s cadence while letting his disguise drop, making sure sure he has a good hold on the small piece of iron in his left hand while gesturing with the right as he straightens up, meeting the other man’s eyes. “ ** _Hold still_**.” He switches back to his own voice for the casting, and he can feel it as the magic takes hold, the man in front of him going rigid, eyes bugging wide in surprise. Once he’s certain the other man isn’t able to move, Caleb straights up the rest of the way. He’s still a good deal shorter than the brute in front of him, but that’s hardly a concern right now.

“I believe you met a friend of mine earlier today,” Caleb says, voice even, each word sharp as a diamond. “And from what I saw, you were not very kind. You seem to be under some sort of misconception about the, eh, nature of tieflings.” The man is watching him carefully, a fine sweat breaking out across his brow, and it warms something in Caleb to see it. The man is nervous, scared, and he should be.

“You seem to be of the opinion for some reason that they don’t belong, that they’re to be hated, driven out. Feared.” He leans up on his toes slightly to get closer, close enough to see that man’s muscles straining uselessly against the spell that holds him, desperate to pull back. “That fear is misplaced, my friend, though I understand it’s a common misconception. If you had simply left it as name calling, simply let your mouth run, it would not have been such an issue. Boarish, crude, and undeserved, but perhaps not so terrible. But no, you took it a step further, didn’t you.” He lets his voice take on the lower register and slower cadence he remembers from years past. “You needed to make him scared, didn’t you. You had to make him hurt, to really drive your lesson home, make sure he wouldn’t forget. Hit him a little, slice him a little. Make sure he was very aware of the lack of welcome, _ja_? Make him feel just as scared of you as you were of him.”

Leaning back, Caleb looks up at the man, takes in the rim of white around the eyes, the drops of sweat rolling down his face. Without breaking eye contact he slips the little nugget of iron away and plucks out the white feather tucked into his belt. “In the future, I expect you to do better. Perhaps don’t judge people based on how they look, or how you think they might act. That is a fool’s errand, especially for one as stupid as you. And keep in mind, not all monsters are so visible. _There is so much more to_ **_Fear_**.” He lets the Hold spell drop and replaces it with a swish and flick of the feather, and a small gesture with his other hand.

The man makes a strangled sound deep in his throat as the hold on him slackens, and Caleb has just enough time to see the front of the man’s pants darken before he’s turning and running from Caleb as fast as he can, screaming the whole while as if all the devils and demons of the Hells and Abyss trail after him. He doesn’t know what the man saw, but he can only hope it comes close to being enough. He holds the spell as long as he can, then drops it, carefully tucking the feather away and gesturing once more before muttering a word, taking off for the inn, putting as much space between himself and the man as quickly as possible.

He arrives back, none the worse for wear, hardly out of breath, and takes a moment to settle himself back to rights, straightening his cloak before heading inside as if just back from a quiet walk. It’s late, and the others are no longer in the common room, for which he’s thankful. He makes his way back upstairs to his and Molly’s room, letting himself inside and locking the door behind him before taking the time to set his silver thread at the door and windows, making sure they’re safe.

That Molly’s safe.

Molly, for his part, is still asleep in the bed, and doesn’t rouse at all until Caleb is sliding in next to him. He turns partway with a quiet hiss, falling against Caleb’s chest to sprawl inelegantly, his tail winding around one of Caleb’s ankles as he gets comfortable again.

“Hmm...d’you get your errand done?”

Leaning in, Caleb presses a kiss to Molly’s horn before running a hand up and down the tiefling’s spine.

“ _Ja_ , _liebling_ , I did.”

Molly hums, already mostly asleep again, and it doesn’t take long for Caleb to follow after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think he's used it yet, but turns out (at least according to CritRoleStats) that Caleb has the spell Fear on his spell list:
> 
> " **Fear** : _3rd level, 1 minute (c)- You project a phantasmal image of a creature's worst fears. Each creature in a 30-foot cone must succeed on a Wisdom saving throw or drop whatever it is holding and become frightened for the duration. While frightened by this spell, a creature must take the Dash action and move away from you by the safest available route on each of its turns, unless there is nowhere to move. If the creature ends its turn in a location where it doesn't have line of sight to you, the creature can make a Wisdom saving throw. On a successful save, the spell ends for that creature._ "


End file.
